


Kitchen Craft

by iulia_linnea



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-15
Updated: 2009-11-15
Packaged: 2017-10-02 21:25:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iulia_linnea/pseuds/iulia_linnea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ron lures Hermione home with four portions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kitchen Craft

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to Shog—he knows [why](http://pics.livejournal.com/iulia_linnea/pic/000fzbg7).

Hermione had worked late again, so she was pleased to find Ron _and_ dinner waiting in the kitchen when she arrived home. She was less pleased that dinner was spaghetti—it was always spaghetti wasn't it?—because she'd had pasta for lunch, but given how rarely Ron cooked, she wasn't about to complain.

"That looks delicious," she said brightly.

Ron placed the puttanesca on the table and kissed her. "It does, and it's—what do you call it? Oh, yeah—appropriately portion-controlled. I used," he paused to snicker, "a measure."

Hermione wasn't sure why Ron's use of their pasta measure should amuse him but said nothing as she began serving herself.

"Yep, a measure—'though you don't actually need it if you remember your grip."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

Ron, his expression as close to innocent as Hermione had ever seen it, made a familiar hand motion, saying, "Seems I'm exactly four portions, so I measured that out and halved it."

"How do you know that you're exactly four portions?" Hermione asked, her fork stilling in its twirl over her plate.

Ron flushed and flashed an unrepentant grin.

"Ronald Weasley! How long have you been—tell me that you _washed_ the measure!"

"But I'm clean, you _know_ I am."

Hermione's fork clattered to her plate as she stood abruptly. "Oh, _God_! Ron! That's _disgusting_."

"'Mione, you've had me in your _mouth_," Ron insisted, joining her at the sink. "Don't throw that away. It was clean when I measured, I swear—and anyway, it was only my skin!"

"We. Are. Ordering. Curry," Hermione said between clenched teeth, as she scrapped her puttanesca down the drain. "And you are never cooking again!"

"But you work late. I thought you'd like the help."

Hermione turned; Ron looked completely deflated—and the puttanesca _had_ smelt good. Her stomach rumbled.

_No, I'm _not_ eating that_, she thought, pulling her husband into a hug. "You are clean, but that's just . . . that wasn't hygienic. Curry."

"Yeah, all right," Ron agreed, his voice small.

Hermione pulled back and leant up to kiss him. "I'm going to come home, really, I promise. No more late nights."

"Yeah?"

"_Yes_."

"So," Ron said, his expression turning lascivious, "you could still have four portions if you like."

Hermione laughed. "I suppose I'm up for a non-traditional dinner, too. I had a big lunch."

"Didn't you meet Harry today?"

"Hmm, hm."

"So, not that big . . . ."

"Ron!"


End file.
